


Beyond the Broken Point

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Despair, F/M, Gen, Murder, Psychological Torture, Sith Sorcery, Sith Temples, Suicide, tragic ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9768134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Vader never wanted death for Obi-Wan Kenobi, but what he does want is out of reach.Or is it?Vader's desires are simple. Blind loyalty. Complete submission. Surrendered autonomy. Nothing unreasonable.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

“ _No_ !” Sidious' new apprentice cried, desperation written all over him. “You promised me he would  _live_ !”

Palpatine looked down at the auburn-haired knight lying unconscious on the floor.

“As much as it is in him to care at all, he will hate you for what you have done,” he warned the boy. “Do you  _really_ want him in this new life of yours, judging you as he always has?”

“ _Yes._ I need him alive.”

Palpatine considered it, and realized this could be... very...  _beneficial..._ “Then you shall have him, my Apprentice. But we will have to contain him. He will not stay with you willingly.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Makes sense.” Vader ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of lost confusion that did  _not_ befit a dark lord of the Sith.

He'd need to train that out of him.

But not today.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan's throat burned for lack of water, and his head pounded in pain.

He tried to look away, to close his eyes, but everywhere he turned there was another screen, or another holo—

Electricity crackled, threatening to engulf him again—

It hit without warning. Without meaning. Without pattern.

Without mercy.

He never knew when it would strike again.

Obi-Wan tried to block out the sounds of Anakin slaughtering children, his tiny brothers and sisters— younglings Obi-Wan would gladly have  _died_ to protect—

Over and over and over...

It had been hours? Days?

“What a testament to love.”

Obi-Wan wanted to hurl, and hopefully remove all of his internal organs at the same time.

_Palpatine_ was back.

Again.

“Padmé. She must be quite the woman, to inspire such loyalty. How does it feel to know you were the one he could live without? The one it's permissible to devastate? Strange, isn't it, how Padmé's family is sacred, and those who try to harm  _one_ of them will find themselves dying slowly... but he expects you to overlook the slaughter of your own?”

Obi-Wan grit his teeth and bowed his head.

Felt his shattered heart quiver against the recorded screams.

Screams that repeated all through the night and the next day and the next.

Lights flaring on, cruelly bright, only to shut off and leave him in darkness.

He tried to sleep—

Tried to treasure what little water and food he was given—

But the screams were so  _loud_ , and the sights  _everywhere,_ and the darkness of this temple so  _crushing—_

And when he reached out to the Force, he was met with a twisting, searing emptiness.

Where his loved ones had  _been..._

And would never be again.

And then the temple attacked his  _mind._ His  _body._

And eventually...

Obi-Wan's screams joined the recorded younglings'.

 

* * *

 

Sith in the olden times might have harvested Obi-Wan Kenobi's blood.

And yes.

There would have been plenty of uses for it.

But Sidious did something even better.

He harvested the Jedi's emotional agony. Rituals he'd been unable to complete now unlocked for him. Power flooded his veins, and he channeled Obi-Wan's agony into his apprentice's soul, poisoning Vader deeper into darkness.

Vader drew strength from it, sank himself into the depths—

And had no idea he was feeding off of Obi-Wan's suffering.

The Sith sorcery that wracked the Jedi's mind and body were delicious to behold.

It burned him from the inside out. Drained away his spirit.

A never-ending hell that made him long for the comfort of nightmares.

 

* * *

 

Vader felt the temple embrace him as he traveled into its depths.

He waited where he was left by his guide, and then guards brought Obi-Wan out—

Vader first heard the shuffling footsteps.

He frowned and turned around, only now sensing his former master in the Force.

There was something...  _wrong..._ about him...

The robes hung loose and tattered on a body that had somehow become something  _beyond_ gaunt.

The guards left him standing inside the door and retreated, leaving them in privacy.

Obi-Wan stared blankly at the wall.

Vader moved towards him, feeling apprehension prickle his back.

He hadn't seen Obi-Wan since... since the confrontation in Palpatine's office.

Since Obi-Wan  _found out._

He didn't expect open arms and forgiveness, but—

_Kark,_ Obi-Wan was taking this hard.

The Jedi's gaze tracked to his eyes, and then the older man lunged forward, throwing himself into Vader's arms. He clutched at Vader's tunics, shuddering, sobbing, terrible heaving cries that had somehow been denied actual  _tears._

“Obi-Wan?” Vader stared down at him in shock

“ _Please,_ ” Obi-Wan keened. “Kill me,  _please—_ ”

Shock turned to disbelief. “What.” There was too much aggression in the tone and none of the rising inflection to have allowed the word to be termed a question.

Obi-Wan was...  _drooling_ ... on his robes?

“Have I not suffered enough? Not enough? What more could you  _want_ from me?” he wailed, almost hysterical. “You want me to beg? To call you Master?”

Obi-Wan's legs gave out, collapsing him to his knees on the stone with a sickening  _crack._ Fingers made of bone and skin clutched at Anakin's ankles. “Please, my Master, have mercy and  _kill me—_ ”

Vader tried to stumble backwards, but found he dragged Obi-Wan  _with_ him across the floor.

“ _Stop,_ ” the Sith snarled. He yanked himself out of Obi-Wan's grip and retreated.

Obi-Wan remained kneeling, rocking—

Vader could see the blood smeared across the floor, beginning where he'd damaged his knees—

Obi-Wan seemed completely oblivious. “ _Please_ ,” he sobbed. “If you  _ever_ loved me—  _please—_ ”

“I'm gonna—” Vader drew in a shaky breath and backed towards the door. “I'll come back and visit you on a better day.”

Obi-Wan's soul shattered. In the Force, a terrible, beautiful destruction of something fragile and irreplaceable. Vader's breath caught in his throat. The glory of it—

“ _Don't leave me here! Please—!_ ”

The guards returned, seized him even as he lunged for Vader again.

Obi-Wan screamed as they caught his arms, a lonely wail that nearly burst Vader's eardrums. The Sith cringed against the physical pain it caused.

“ _No! No!_ I  _will not go back there—_ Anakin,  _Anakin_ !  _Have mercy—_ ”

Vader fled, face blanched, and horrified by the screams of utter  _agony_ that chased his steps until a door closed and silence fell.

When he contacted his new master, he wasn't expecting the compassion that flooded Palpatine's face.

“I see. All light has been stripped from the galaxy, and therefore from Master Kenobi. I am sorry to hear he is not taking it very well. He is strong. I am sure he will survive, and adjust with time.”

“ _Adjust_ ? He looks like he's  _dying_ !”

“Have a little faith in your old master. He's lost his family. What sort of place would you be in, if the same had happened to you? And  _he'd_ done it to you?”

Anakin hid his shiver.

“Perhaps it would be beneficial for both you and him if you gave it a few more weeks before you tried another visit,” Palpatine suggested, his voice warm and soothing.

And it sounded like an excellent idea.

 

* * *

 

The steps didn't drag this time.

Vader drew in a deep breath, still braced for something terrible—

But the Obi-Wan the guards led in was quiet. Very decorous.

He sat at the table he was directed to, and after a second, folded his hands and placed them on the tabletop.

Eminently proper, in every way.

_Including_ in the Force.

Vader sat across from him, baffled by the change, but very relieved. “Obi-Wan.”

“Hello.”

“How are they treating you?” Vader couldn't see any signs of abuse—

“Well.”

Be that as it may, the Sith didn't like how hollow he looked. “Are you eating?”

“Yes.”

“Do they feed you enough?” Anakin couldn't help but feel something was missing—

“Yes.”

For a long moment there was silence, Obi-Wan simply staring at the wall behind Vader, apparently waiting for further instructions.

“How are you  _doing_ ?” he asked, lowering his voice and leaning forward to place a hand over Obi-Wan's demurely folded ones. “ _Honestly_ ?”

Obi-Wan looked down at his hand, and said, “Much better.”

Vader felt a shiver run down his spine.

It was all so  _flat_ , and his eyes were so...  _vacant—_

_I don't know_ what  _they've been doing to him, but enough is enough._

Obi-Wan didn't look likely to try to kill him, or escape any time soon—

In fact... he reminded Vader of a broken slave. He'd seen them too often as a child. The will to resist completely  _burned_ from their souls. Too beaten to survive another round, they sank into a sea of gray, a desperate hope that inaction and compliance would defend them against that final aggression.

The one that would steal away the only thing they had left.

Life.

“I'm getting you out of here,” he promised, tone fierce. His heart broke as he realized it made no impression on the man sitting before him.

Vader pushed away from the table and moved to a corner, sending a request for a connection through to his master's comm.

Within moments, Sidious answered. “Lord Vader?”  
“I'm going to take Obi-Wan home with me.”

“It's not safe,” was the old man's surprised response.

“I'll  _make_ it work, but he can't stay here any longer. The temple is killing him. It's sapping his will and he's pining away. He needs a mission, and he needs me. He's too cut off.”

“And what mission will you give him?” Palpatine asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I don't know. Some kind of mercy mission that can keep him distracted from everything he's lost.” Vader glanced back at Obi-Wan, who hadn't stirred, who  _may_ not have even blinked, still staring at the blank stone wall.

“Do as you see fit, Lord Vader.”

The connection ended.

Vader moved to Obi-Wan's side and gently guided him to his feet. “We're going home,” he murmured, tone soft.

“Home?” Obi-Wan looked up at him, blankly confused.

Vader drew him towards the door, feeling the last of the anger towards his former master fade away. “Yes. My home, which is now your home too. We've been too long apart, Master.”

 

* * *

 

He'd called ahead, had the room next to his prepared. He led Obi-Wan to it, waited until the door shut, then moved to his own.

He stood still, listening intently—

But there were no sounds sifting through the wall.

_Nothing._

Not footsteps, not the creak of mattress, not the sound of running water.

After ten interminable minutes of waiting, Vader headed out his door and into Obi-Wan's.

He nearly tripped over his former master, who stood right where Vader had left him, staring straight ahead, as if he was prepared to remain there for hours.

Vader grit his teeth against the horror that rose in his throat.

It had been easy,  _so_ easy to forget that Sith temples  _hated_ Jedi.

Yes. One was the only place one could  _hold_ a Jedi indefinitely, but—

_It wasn't trying to help him acclimate and heal._

He thought back to his first attempt to connect with Obi-Wan.

_And I thought it was what_ I'd  _done to him._

No. That couldn't have broken Obi-Wan so thoroughly.

He took Obi-Wan's shoulder and gently led him into the refresher.

“You need a shower,” he said quietly, feeling almost as if he was speaking to a child. “I'm going to help you out of your clothes, and then you're going to take a shower.”  
Obi-Wan didn't respond.

“Do you understand?” Vader prompted.

Obi-Wan's glazed gaze found his face.

Vader wondered where his former master's belt and obi had gone.

They'd probably been taken away from him. If he'd been suicidal, they would have been asking for trouble...

Vader helped him out of his tunics and leggings, and was horrified when he realized Obi-Wan was barefoot, his feet torn and bleeding.

Old wounds. New.

Stone had not been kind to them.

They had to  _hurt_ to stand on, but Obi-Wan didn't seem to realize it.

Neither did the man recognize it when his smallclothes dropped to the floor as well.

Heart nearly bursting with grief, Vader pushed Obi-Wan beneath the waterhead, and signaled the spray on.

Obi-Wan cringed as the warm water struck him, clearly startled.

“Easy,” Vader soothed. “It's just a shower. Remember? You used to do this all the time.”

But Obi-Wan simply stared at the wall and let the water pummel his body.

Another twist in Vader's soul.

_I shouldn't have waited for so long,_ part of him wailed.

Another insidiously whispered that if Obi-Wan hadn't been completely broken, Vader would never have been able to bring him home.

Instead of nurturing and protecting and healing him, they would be at odds.

Obi-Wan would never allow himself to rest in Vader's care and guidance.

But he might  _now._

Vader shoved that poisonous thought away.

Not  _out..._ but near the back of his brain, where it could caress his subconscious.

He stripped out of his tunics and pants, but left his smallclothes. He poured hairsoap into his hands and drew Obi-Wan's head down just a little, rubbing the cleanser all through his hair. The suds worked their way down his body, and they and the water alone were going to have to suffice for now.

Once Obi-Wan's hair had been rinsed out, Vader drew him from the shower and wrapped a soft drying cloth around him.

But once again, his master didn't seem to know what to  _do_ with it.

So Vader grabbed another one and carefully dried off his face, hair, and throat, and went to gather some clothes.

He returned to find Obi-Wan nearly dry, standing in a puddle, and without having moved a centimeter.

Vader's clothes were too long for his former master. They pooled around his ankles and wrists, but at least he wouldn't catch cold in them. Vader pulled him towards the bed, drew the covers back, and eased Obi-Wan down to sit on the bed.

“You need rest, alright? This is where you're going to sleep.”

Obi-Wan looked down at the mattress, then up at Vader, a hint of a frown marring his face. “It's so soft.”  
“That's a good thing, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan stood, then crumpled to the floor.

“We sleep in beds, Obi-Wan. We walk on floors.”

“Not soft,” was Obi-Wan's murmured reply.

Vader scratched at his head, then shrugged. “Sure. Fine. You can sleep there. Want a pillow?”  
Obi-Wan didn't seem to know what to do with that question.

Vader grabbed one of the black synthsilk pillows and tucked it under Obi-Wan's head. “Okay. Sleep well.”

He'd almost reached the door when he heard a whimper.

It was so quiet he almost believed he'd imagined it.

He looked back and found Obi-Wan's eyes shut, his breathing deep and even.

Yeah.

Must have imagined it.

 

* * *

 

It took a long time before Vader managed to fall asleep.

And then it lasted only a few hours.

A scream threw him awake, and he bolted upright in bed, heart thundering, gasping for air—

Another scream,  _another—_

Agonized,  _terrified_ , broken—

Vader flung himself out the door and into Obi-Wan's room.

_A nightmare,_ he realized, as the light from the hall streamed in on the writhing form.

_He's having a nightmare._

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, crouching down beside Obi-Wan, gently shaking his shoulder—

Obi-Wan twisted away from him, shuddering, trying to muffle his keening, as if expecting punishment for his cries—

Vader lay down beside him and pulled him close, physically restraining him from continuing to lash out. “It's alright, Obi-Wan. It's just a dream. Easy.”

Obi-Wan jolted awake, and the sheer  _terror_ in his eyes gutted Vader.

Suddenly, Vader couldn't see, and he pulled Obi-Wan closer, hiding his eyes against Obi-Wan's hair.

Silent tears of his own wet the auburn as Obi-Wan wept into his shoulder.

Vader felt relief as actual  _tears_ escaped Obi-Wan to soak through his tunics. 

The Sith ran his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair, having no idea what to say.

_Sorry..._ well... that wasn't a word he wanted to bring up quite yet.

And he was only sorry that Obi-Wan was taking it all so hard.

Not sorry he'd done what he had to do.

He  _was_ sorry that Obi-Wan had been positioned to be so devastated, but...

He would do it all again in a heartbeat.

Yes.

They should probably stay away from the  _sorry_ word for now.

When Vader rose to try to return to his own sleep efforts, the Jedi Master's panic was overwhelming.

And shockingly gratifying.

Obi-Wan had never  _needed_ him before.  
And with Padmé refusing to speak to him, refusing to sleep beside him...

Well.

Vader tugged at the pillow so he could reach half of it, and curled up beside Obi-Wan.

His former master shivered, the terror subsiding, just a little.

Turning into a terrible, yawning grief.

Obi-Wan lay there, eyes closed, and simply endured it.

Spectacular.

As Vader soothed him, crooning comforting words, he felt  _powerful._ Needed.

A hero.

That was a sensation he hadn't felt often in recent days.

The power flooding his veins pooled in his fingertips, begging for release.

Sometime he would let loose.

But not right now.

Because Obi-Wan lay unresisting in his arms—

And vulnerable.

 

* * *

 

It was back.

The creature that claimed to love him.

The one that—

Obi-Wan shuddered, trying to draw inside himself and hide.

He'd tried to escape his prison before.

But out there?

The beings out there were even worse than the one  _here_ .

At least this one didn't hate him.

This one tormented him, every movement, every word a burning brand across his skin, whispers of a room in which he couldn't shut out the screams of children—

The grief and the agony—

This being  _fed_ upon them.

Fed on  _him._

And at the same time, the tormentor murmured words of gentleness.

Obi-Wan lay still and endured, because he'd been taught, so thoroughly, that to resist was to draw down even  _worse._

And for now, the whispers in his brain were gone.

He would accept almost any infliction to keep the whispers from returning.

 

* * *

 

Sidious smiled at what he felt in the Force.

His apprentice had a power source close to hand.

The day he needed everything he had to give and  _more_ , it would be there.

Lord Vader would take the last of Obi-Wan Kenobi. By the time he realized what it meant, he wouldn't be able to stop himself. The craving would be too terrible.

He would kill him, and  _know_ it as he was killing him.

He would choose self over his master one final time—

And the guilt and anger would drive him into Sidious' plans.

No more hesitation.

No more mercy.

Perfection.

 

 

 

 


	2. Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt to make a picture seeable on Ao3. Hope it works.

 

"The Whimper Vader Missed"

 

Drawn in a journal with pencil, then with regular old markers and a white gel pen for highlights.

 

 

<https://igaveyoufairwarning.tumblr.com/>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be many pictures to come, perhaps with this story, perhaps not. Definitely for my winged Obi-Wan stories; I have several already drawn, they just need to be photographed now.
> 
> Also: a Tumblr! Which is covered in just this one picture, until I have others to use. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

 

Vader led Obi-Wan to the dining hall the next morning, taking his usual seat to Palpatine's right.

Obi-Wan stood uncertainly, until Vader pulled out the chair beside his and gently guided his former master into it and pressed down on his shoulder to cue him to sit.

“How awful,” Palpatine murmured, eyes wide. “Was he like this all night?”  
Vader gave a silent nod.

“Strange. I would have thought he would have expressed his gratitude to you for freeing you.”

“Speech has been a bit beyond him,” Vader said curtly.  _I should never have left him alone at that Temple..._

“I did not mean speech.”

And then Vader  _knew_ what he meant, and the thought was so terrible, so  _wrong_ that he wanted to drive his fork into something living. He didn't, of course, because that would be petty and he had a sense of dignity. “I don't need that kind of service from him.”

“Ah. My mistake. I just assumed that's why you wanted him kept alive.”

The thought made Vader's stomach churn.  _Enslave him? Not just that, but as a pleasure slave? You think I could_ ever  _do something like that?_

Vader wasn't sure what was more insulting. That Palpatine thought Vader could become a vile slaver, or that he thought Vader wanted Obi-Wan for what the man could  _do_ for him.

Vader accepted a dish from the server droid, filling both his own and Obi-Wan's plates. “I think he needs a reason to escape wherever he's locked in his mind.”

“You don't think you are reason enough? I thought you always said he loved you.”

There was something... something...

Vader felt defensive. “Of  _course_ he loves me.”

“Of course, my boy. As you were saying, a reason for him to come back?”

“I think if he had an opportunity to do some real good, he might take notice.”  
Palpatine nodded. “It's a good thought. Where will you find something more good than easing the worry you have for him?”

Vader frowned. That something was back.

_What is it?_ “Does Alderaan have any relief endeavors that we could approve?”

Palpatine considered it. “I suppose there are one or two that it would do no harm to allow.”

“Then I'll accompany the efforts, bring Obi-Wan with me, and see if that can't wake him up.”

“An excellent plan, Lord Vader. I do hope he's grateful for the effort you're investing in freeing him.”

_There it is again. It's the way he says things._

He'd never noticed it before his Fall, but he had a more cynical view of the universe now.

_He waters my ego while he paints Obi-Wan in as bad a light as possible._

It had always been that way.

_I used to think it meant he took my side. But Obi-Wan_ is  _my side now, and he's still doing it._

He would have to think about that some more.

In the meantime, Obi-Wan wasn't eating. Vader felt his gaze, which had been aimed roughly for the food, turn to Vader's face.

Vader looked at him. “It's okay. You can eat.”  
Obi-Wan shook his head. “There is little point.”

_He's speaking?_ “Why is there little point?” Vader kept his voice soothing, worried that any betrayal of pleasure on his part might scare Obi-Wan into silence again.

Obi-Wan's expression turned grimly amused. “Why eat the food in dreams? It never has taste, and never stills the hunger, so why punish oneself that way?”

“You're not dreaming,” Vader assured him.

Obi-Wan's face turned compassionate. “Yes it is, Anakin. You hate me and want to kill me. You're draining my life away, and yet  _this_ version of you is kind. It's a nightmare, one whose cruelty will be felt only on awakening.”

Vader felt a shiver run down his back and hastily turned his head to Palpatine, who was watching with elevated eyebrows. “Master, could you tell us about one of these missions Alderaan will be allowed to—”

“Allowed,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “The days when cruelty requires no permission but kindness has a curfew.”

“Good things are happening, Obi-Wan.” Vader tapped at his plate. “Eat.”

“Happening in twos and threes, never too much. Far be it from you to allow too much kindness. Might get drunk with it, might start being kind too.  _Force save us_ from people being  _too kind_ to each other.”

Vader stared at him in shock. “Obi-Wan?” Was his former master finally coming out of it? Would he start behaving more like himself?

Vader felt dread at the thought. He'd  _liked_ cuddling Obi-Wan—

“Let's  _regulate_ how much kindness beings can show to other beings, then tax the hell out of them so they can barely keep their own family surviving, to discourage even the kindness that  _is_ allowed, and then extend the work hours and pay them less, so they're too tired and in pain to even feel sorry for anyone other than themselves.”

“Obi-Wan, politics has nothing to do with  _kindness._ The Empire has united a people that were  _killing_ each other pointlessly. There's peace now.”

“Yes, yes. Let's kill ten thousand people whose sole goal in life is to spread kindness, because there is  _too much kindness_ in this universe, we  _must_ make it more selfish. Immediately.”

“Obi-Wan, the Jedi lost their way. It was unfortunate, sad, even, what happened to them, but it couldn't be helped—”

“Out with the kind, in with the cruel,” Obi-Wan mourned, poking at his food with a finger. “The few kind left are  _punished, punished, punished_ for suggesting kindness. Must ask permission. Must be  _allowed_ their two kind actions a year.”

“Lord Vader, perhaps you would like to take your pet away from the table?” Sidious suggested.

Vader felt his face flush and glared at Obi-Wan. Catching his elbow, he hauled him up from his chair as the Jedi giggled.

“Too much light, dark was needed. Yes, yes, let's blot out the sun. Let's reward the cruel and punish the kind. Let's bring fear and hate and spread them everywhere, as far as we can reach—”

Vader drew him out the door and down the hall.

Obi-Wan's feet followed, not resisting, his hands spreading wide as if to sprinkle his words beside him as he walked.

“Kill, kill, kill. Kill, the Sith says, to end the war he began and puppeteered. Brought you peace, he says.” Obi-Wan's voice dropped to a hoarse rasp. “Peace is a lie,” he chuckled, “But he offers you peace for a price!”

Vader's heart froze.

_“And we shall have peace.”_

That, and saving Padmé had dragged him into this whole mess. He felt the Imperial setup made more sense than the Republic, and he'd always wanted someone wise to be on the throne.

But...

Kamino: Sifo-Dyas and Tyranus responsible for the clone army, nine years before there was even political agitation.

Geonosis: A Sith named Sidious in charge of the Senate.

Oba Diah: Syfo-Dyas wasn't Sifo-Dyas because Sifo-Dyas was  _dead..._ Dooku was Sifo-Dyas...

Pyke Homeworld: Dooku was Tyranus.

Coruscant: Palpatine was Sidious.

_Palpatine created the clones, then stirred up discontent right at the time when the clones were just about ready so the war would hit on schedule._

The Night: Join him... and... bring... peace.

_Wouldn't have needed to, if he hadn't created a war from scratch._

Vader stared at Obi-Wan.

The first line of the Sith Code: Peace is a lie.

_He didn't bring peace because he wanted it, he brought it simply to buy the galaxy's allegiance..._

_And mine._

Only Two: One to embody power, the other to crave it.

_But faced with the Chosen One, the one meant to the destroy the Sith..._

Now Palpatine's friendship made a horrid kind of sense.

_He didn't take me in because he cared._

_Even then he was creating clones, seeding dissent—_

_Time to groom the only one who could stop him into being the one who craves power that he already possesses._

“Is he teaching you?” Obi-Wan sing-songed. “When weak and no longer crafty enough the master, the apprentice overthrow him should. Teach, teach, teach, ensure the purity, the legacy of the Sith.”  
_He's not teaching me._

_He always tells me another time, and sends me on some errand._

“Apprentices are taught,” Obi-Wan murmured, suddenly wilting, and grief so terrible it could swallow up a star could be found reaching out from his heart. “Slaves are used.”  
Vader awoke gasping, sheened in sweat and panicked. Obi-Wan lay cuddled beside him, silent tears slipping down his nose.

“Hey,” Vader soothed, wiping the tears away, caressing the auburn head. “It's okay. I had a bad dream. You're okay.”

Tear-blurred gray eyes opened, staring up into his, so lost, so  _sad—_

Vader drew him into a hug and tried to simply breathe away the last of his jitters.

What a dream.

He was grateful,  _so_ grateful his Obi-Wan couldn't tackle political arguments. Maybe he never would— maybe they could keep their friendship, their love—

And after having lost everything else, Vader  _needed this._

_No one is taking you from me._

_Ever._

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the end of the story. The tags and warnings have been updated, please check them and decide whether this will make your day better. If not, see you another time. <3

 

 

At first Obi-Wan simply stood there, dully watching the refugees moving forward to accept emergency rations and blankets.

Vader watched _him,_ the questions presented by his dream a couple nights ago playing through the back of his mind.

A little voice nearby, thin with hunger and thick with tears, had Obi-Wan turning his head, forehead furrowing.

“I can't find my family. Please. Please, Mister, _please,_ I can't find my parents.”

One of the relief workers patted the little girl on the head and told her to wait by one of the tables.

“Please, won't you _help_ me?”

But the worker had moved on to others who needed his help as well.

Obi-Wan's hand reached out, found Vader's arm without looking, and then gripped tight the fabric of his sleeve.

Surprised, Vader looked down to see Obi-Wan staring at the child.

The auburn head turned to look up into his helmet's eye plates.

The mute pleading was so much _better_ than the vacant staring.

Vader's heart gave a bound of pleasure.

Not only was Obi-Wan somewhat aware of his surroundings, he was looking to Vader to provide his need.

And Vader could see it in Obi-Wan's eyes. It _was_ a need. It wasn't just a _desire_ for Obi-Wan to help desperate people.

Vader smiled down at him and gave him a nod. “Go on.”  
Obi-Wan's eyes widened in alarm and he pressed into Vader's side.

Vader smiled. Oh, it felt so _good_ to have Obi-Wan so needy.

“Come.” He placed his hand on Obi-Wan's lower back, guiding him alongside him to the child.

“What is your name?” Vader asked.

She stared up at him in fear.

Obi-Wan looked puzzled and worried, so Vader took his helmet off and crouched down so she could look in his face without breaking her neck.

“Arilla Antilles.”

_Great._

Finding the _right_ Antilles family on Alderaan would be like trying to find the right _Pavan_ family on Coruscant.

_Kark, Obi-Wan, you couldn't have picked an easier one?_

But Obi-Wan was looking down at him with such hope, that Vader realized he had to see this through now. The soul he wanted to keep was too broken to handle having such a fragile hope smashed.

So he swallowed a sigh, gave the child a small smile and asked, “Where did you last see them?”

* * *

 

Arilla sobbed in the arms of her parents, her brother crowded in with a jumble of arms everywhere, all of them too overcome to do more than hold one another and weep in relief.

Vader looked over to Obi-Wan and found silent tears running soft down his face.

Obi-Wan looked up at him, and something that _almost_ looked like the broken descendant of a smile touched his lips for a moment, his eyes so thankful and for a moment free of the anguished terror that never left them now.

Vader stared into them, desperate to catch every last second before it faded.

And when it did, he knew he was going to do everything in his power to repeat the heady experience of having Obi-Wan look at him like that.

Yes.

He would bring that expression back to Obi-Wan's face again.

 

* * *

 

He didn't have a chance to, the rest of that trip. An uprising sprang up on Umbara, and Vader was sent to go quell it. He left Obi-Wan locked in Vader's quarters on the ship, and when he returned, he found his former master hiding in the shower, curled up and with his arms over his head.

Obi-Wan peeked around one of those arms, and such misery filled the Jedi's eyes when he saw Vader that it made the Sith look down at himself in surprise.

Ah. Yes.

He was covered in blood.

Not all of it guilty of treason against the Empire.

He hustled a terrified Obi-Wan out of the shower so he could clean himself and change into clean robes, then returned to where Obi-Wan stood, right where Vader had left him in the middle of the bedroom.

He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan and guided him to the giant bed, where Vader situated them so he could cuddle the Jedi close.

After long moments of tense terror, Obi-Wan's shoulders shuddered.

Seconds later, he was weeping into Vader's shoulder as Vader rubbed his back and pressed kisses to his hair.

The Sith wasn't surprised when Obi-Wan fell asleep from exhaustion and grief against him.

It was the first night Obi-Wan slept in a bed, and Vader's body definitely appreciated it.

In the morning when he awoke, he discovered Obi-Wan to already be awake, but not having moved a muscle. He just lay there, staring at the wall, a numb, blank look on his face again.

_Well, kark._

Vader needed to locate another mercy mission, and fast, because that expression on Obi-Wan's face opened up a chasm of grief in Vader's own soul, and he wasn't sure where it came from.

But it hurt too much to ignore.

 

* * *

 

Yoda had sensed something terrible and wrong in the Force.

It was only after Vader's saber went through his heart that he realized _what._

From a Force Ghost's point of view, it was painfully obvious.

Vader had not the skill nor power to defeat Yoda. Maybe someday, but certainly not _this_ day.

He'd stolen it from somewhere else.

And there lay Obi-Wan on a shiny black floor, clutching his head and knowing, _knowing_ he'd been used to kill Yoda.

The ancient one sat on the floor beside him, wishing he could relieve the silent agony. Perhaps even draw the tears that Obi-Wan _needed_ , but that refused to come.

Instead he clawed at his head, shivered, and suffered.

For hours Obi-Wan endured without appreciably moving from his spot.

Yoda never once left his side.

Obi-Wan sensed Vader's return to the _Executor_. He reached up, used the bed to drag himself to his feet, tottered into the refresher. He lost track of whatever it was he'd planned to do when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

His gaze became trapped, shame twisting his expression... and then loathing. A terrible, soul-deep revulsion.

Vader slipped into the room behind him, blood on his hands.

He hid those hands behind his back to try to keep Obi-Wan from seeing it.

Yoda jabbed an illusive gimmer stick at his shins, but it passed right through.

Obi-Wan's head turned so he could see Vader, the movement slow and tortured.

“What's wrong?” Vader demanded, shocked and afraid. He reached out to steady Obi-Wan, leaving bloody handprints on the Jedi's sleeves.

Obi-Wan swayed, looking sick, and then the grief wasn't enough to hold him upright anymore, and he staggered out of the refresher, pulling away from Vader. He made it halfway to the bed before he toppled over, not even possessing the strength to reach out his hands to break his fall.

He hit the floor hard, but with his heart straining to beat and his lungs struggling for oxygen, the bruises of the fall were the least of Obi-Wan's worries.

Vader lunged to his side, hands trying to _help,_ leaving more blood behind—

Obi-Wan gaped like a beached fish, and for much the same reason.

A light gasp escaped him.

“Obi-Wan? What's happening? Are you alright?”

_Clearly not,_ Yoda harrumphed. _An idiot you remain. And suffers, my Obi-Wan does because of it._ _Usual that is._

Yet even more frustrating than _ever._

Obi-Wan's breathing stabilized and he blinked up at the ceiling, the mute numbness seeping back into his eyes.

Sidious and Vader fed off his emotional agony.

His only defense left was to not feel anything.

_Last, that will not._

Obi-Wan was too used to looking emotions in the eye, finding out where they'd come from, observing where they went, and allowing those currents through.

To try to bottle it up, or deny its passage—

He wasn't _built_ for that, he wasn't _trained_ for that, he might explode.

And when he did...

Two Sith would likely receive an unexpected dose of euphoria as Obi-Wan burned out.

Yoda frowned and stomped into the refresher. Perching himself on the counter, he watched through the open doorway.

If there had been a way to _help_ from this side of death, Qui-Gon would have raced to his Padawan's aid already.

While Yoda intended to try to find a way _too,_ if it turned out that all he could do was ensure Obi-Wan did not spend his last anguished weeks alone, then Yoda would do that.

Every step of this path, he would walk alongside Obi-Wan.

 

* * *

 

It was nearing midnight when Vader awoke to muffled sobs.

Obi-Wan was sitting up in bed, head hidden in his knees and arms, weeping. “Forgive me, Qui-Gon,” he choked. “I killed Yoda. Force _forgive me—_ ”

“Hey.” Vader sat up, suddenly concerned, placing his hand against Obi-Wan's back. “That's not true. _I_ killed Yoda. Not you.” And how did he know about it, anyway?

Obi-Wan sent him a broken look.

“No, talk to me. What is it? Please, Obi-Wan, talk to me.”

“There aren't words,” Obi-Wan whispered. “There are only the whispers, and the pain, and the _sucking the life from me_ to _kill, kill, kill._ ”

And _that_ was all he managed to get out of him. The Jedi wept, the Sith rubbed his back, and the silent room mocked them both.

Or maybe that was the Force.

When Obi-Wan fell back into a comalike slumber near dawn, Vader slipped from the room to seek out knowledge.

Sidious was withholding it from him? Fine. He would get it himself.

There was something wrong with Obi-Wan.

_Even if he felt Yoda's death, he shouldn't have felt_ this _responsible. Sad and angry, yes, perhaps guilty he couldn't stop me, but not the empty agony I felt in him._ Obi-Wan believed that _his power_ had been used to kill the old creature.

_Ridiculous, of course, but..._

_But could I have beaten him, a mere matter of months ago?_

_Irrelevant. The dark side strengthens. I'm stronger now._

_Yes... but by_ that _much? If defeating Yoda was a worthy accomplishment, but_ possible, _would Sidious have sent his slave to do it instead of taking that glory himself?_

Vader frowned. What kind of a thought was _that_?

_Of course defeating Yoda was an accolade of a lifetime._

But if Sidious wasn't treating Vader as an apprentice, but as muscle...

_Why did he send me to gain that prize? Did he think he_ couldn't _survive that duel? That if Yoda killed me, fine, but if I happened to kill Yoda, fine then too?_

_But if he couldn't survive fighting Yoda, then why did I?_

While Vader _did_ know he had a kark-ton load of raw power...

_Yoda had nine hundred years' experience. Experience trumps power every time._

He'd been in enough fights to know that. It took him years to finally beat Dooku.

_So what gave me that power? Obi-Wan thinks he did. And against his will._

It was a disturbing thought. Also a pleasant one.

_If I could take out Yoda with this..._

_Surely I could take out Sidious._

And then he and Obi-Wan could make the Empire however his beautiful Jedi wanted it to be.

Padmé had turned down the offer. Had scorned him. _Left_ him.

_Obi-Wan is_ here, _and he is_ good _to his_ core. _He will be benevolent._

Maybe not very practical, in his current state, but what use was an _Empire_ if you couldn't force people to do the good things you wanted them to do?

 

* * *

 

Time was... difficult.

Obi-Wan recognized good things happened sometimes. He could make a child stop crying. He could feed a being whose hunger cried in the Force. He could save someone cornered and terrified.

But most of the time, his mind screamed, and nothing, _nothing_ could be heard over the sound of it.

He awoke one night alone, knowing this was it. Feeling the fingers in his chest, squeezing his heart, siphoning away his soul.

Vader had gone to confront Sidious.

And he would use every resource available to him.

Obi-Wan got up and made the bed, smoothing the black covers down until no wrinkles remained. He arranged the pillows.

He stumbled into the bathroom, thought he saw Yoda, giggled at his madness.

Soon none of it would matter.

A whisper behind him—

He spun around, heart _pounding._

The Temple had never truly let him _go._ Always here, always waiting, always _hungry._

He'd never been able to see the tormenting claws, the owners of the whispers, but for the first time, it didn't matter.

He would escape today.

A small vase sat on the counter, and in it, the only speck of color in the entire suite. A single red wildflower, given to him by a little girl in the last _good_ moment of his life. Obi-Wan hadn't known at the time it was the last, but he _had_ known he needed to keep the bruised and beautiful weed, so Vader had found him the vase.

Obi-Wan drew the stem from its home and carried it back to the bed with him.

It was becoming more and more difficult to move.

At least he would die alone, without Vader caressing him and promising all was well.

He'd had enough of those pretty lies.

Obi-Wan arranged himself carefully on the bed on his back. An old image lurked in the back of his brain— an ancient tale of a Jedi knight. One of the brightly-colored storybooks from his childhood.

One of the few fragments left in his hissing, writhing brain.

The knight had died. The picture had been beautiful, her lying there peacefully, eyes closed, flower gripped in her hands.

That's what Obi-Wan wanted death to be like.

He didn't want to die curled in the shower, or retching into the toilet.

He wanted to just...

Slip away...

Find peace...

Maybe find Qui-Gon.

He folded his hands, tucked the flower between them.

One of the petals was bent against his chest. Obi-Wan frowned at it.

He thought he saw Yoda sitting on the bed beside him, reaching out a green finger to straighten the petal.

Well, madness or not, the flower was perfectly arranged now, and that's what counted in Obi-Wan's book.

He closed his eyes and sighed, waiting for the end.

Would Vader weep over his body?

Seemed almost like a pleasant thought.

There was no one else left to miss him.

Obi-Wan had done so much weeping, _so very much,_ it would be nice to _not_ this go around. Let someone else do that.

Let Obi-Wan just sleep.

Sleep without whispers. Without the grief.

Just...

Sleep.

 

* * *  


Yoda felt torn. He did not want Obi-Wan to die alone, but if he could somehow influence events during the duel, perhaps he could _prevent_ it—

On the other hand, he hadn't been able to alter anything _else_ in the past year of being dead. And oh, how he'd _worked_ at it.

So was abandoning Obi-Wan when he needed company the _most_ really worth it for one last vain attempt? Would that not be more for _Yoda,_ than for _Obi-Wan_?

Qui-Gon joined him, standing across from him at the edge of the bed, staring down at his Padawan.

Sorrowful, the man reached out and brushed his fingers against the side of Obi-Wan's head.

The living Jedi sighed.

“Stay with him, will you?”

“No. I will go to Anakin. I _know_ he's heard me in the past, though he's ignored me. I have to try again.”

Yoda nodded. “Then stay with him, _I_ will.”

“Thank you.” Qui-Gon's face twisted in grief. “He should not be alone tonight.”  
He wouldn't be.

He wouldn't.

 

* * *

 

The heady rush of power flooded through Vader's veins, vibrant, _life itself—_

Yes.

He'd Turned to save Padmé and their unborn children...

But...

The secret truth in his heart lay revealed to himself, now.

He would have turned anyway, because of the beautiful, luring taste of the dark. He'd desired more power _long_ before his mother died, before Padmé had been in danger— he'd craved it, loved the taste of it.

And there was nothing more heady than to stand over the corpse of someone you'd killed.

He'd first tasted _that_ drug at age twelve. He'd held out for a time against the urge to feel it again, then killed a slaver in cold blood at age fifteen.

He'd sworn he'd never do it again—

But then there had been the Tusken village.

And oh, he should have felt guilty about it, but it had felt too _good._ It had felt _natural_ to step from killing the guilty to killing the future-guilty.

As if it had been inevitable. As if it was his right.

And then came Dooku, and as he stood there with his sabers, he'd been longing, _longing_ for _permission—_

That's what Palpatine had given.

It was only later that he realized the need to have an excuse... justification... was superficial. After all, the excuses and justifications he made up when he marched on the Temple were amusing now, looking back. His need to feel _righteous_ in his murder.

Now he saw it for what it was.

He wanted to kill. He felt he shouldn't. He found ways to make it so he _should._

Yes.

Padmé may have prompted him to Fall sooner.

But it was always going to happen.

And now the dark sung in his veins, loud and joyous, and he could devastate _worlds_ with what ran through his blood. Kill anyone he pleased. Force his will on beings weaker than him, because to be weak was to be _lesser._

And he would not be _less_ than _anyone_ tonight.

Tonight, his “teacher” would _die._

Obi-Wan wasn't here. Vader didn't have to be an angel of mercy in order to ease his beautiful Jedi's tortured mind.

The Jedi was asleep.

_And I'm about to give him the head of the man who thought leaving him in that Temple to rot was a good idea._

And then he chuckled.

_Still trying to find reasons to kill._

_You are Sith, Lord Vader. You no longer need reasons except the desire._

Something caught at the edge of his perception, a slight uneasiness out of nowhere.

He'd felt such a thing in the past before, like echoes of a voice long gone.

Vader frowned. He'd been a murderous beast for far too long now to be feeling _qualms._ Probably a last-ditch effort on Sidious' part to _live._

A cruel smile curled Vader's lip.

Oh, old man, time to _die._

 

* * *

 

Sidious lay writhing at Vader's feet, in _agony,_ and oh, it felt so _good._

Nearly euphoric with how _right it all was,_ Vader became aware of a whimper in his soul.

An odd thing. He swatted it aside, reached deeper into the Force, and sent another wave of hell into Sidious' mind.

The whimper became a weeping groan.

Very, _very_ odd indeed.

Without pausing he sought the source of the misery.

Sidious hacked a laugh on the floor at his feet. “Fool,” he sneered. And then he fought _back._

Vader realized in dawning horror that Sidious had hidden his strength and skills very well.

If Vader didn't do something drastic, he was going to _die_ here, in this throne room, drooling on the floor and eyes wide open in pathetic shock.

And that was _not_ going to happen.

When he fought Yoda, the transition between the end of himself and the beginning of something else had been fairly seamless.

Here—

Here it _had_ been, but as Vader writhed against lightning and reached for something, anything, _more,_ he saw where it came from.

Heard a low sob of pain.

_I'm sorry, but I need it. I swear I'll fix this. Just give me a little more._

Obi-Wan did not fight him.

There— he was off the floor now, raising his saber to try again. Sidious tried to reach into his mind, to seize control—

Vader called on Obi-Wan again.

The Jedi was quiet now.

Vader had no time to think about it.

And then Sidious was _down,_ and Vader _could_ kill him with the saber in his hand, but—

The darkness tasted so _good,_ and the tingle of it in his fingers felt so _right,_ so with a snarling smile he poured death into Palpatine and left his blood spattered across the perfect, shiny floor, the walls, the ceiling—

Himself.

Trembling, Vader rode the final waves of euphoria as the power, no longer being used, seeped out of him.

That was _well_ worth any painful act of mercy he would be forced to engage in to make it up to Obi-Wan. Hell. He would even help Obi-Wan in that tedious passtime of matching saber hilt to records, and then bringing the crystal-deprived hilt to the families of those dead Jedi.

Of all of Obi-Wan's little quirks, _that_ one bored him the most.

But in the pleasant glow of Force used, he felt benevolent enough for even _that._

Vader sauntered back through the halls, heading for his room.

The door gave way to his codes, but in the doorway he froze, the last warmth blasted from his soul.

He didn't cry out. He didn't fling himself at the bed.

He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and while his heart thundered in his ears, his feet slowly took him to the bedside.

Dark lines streaked Obi-Wan's porcelain-pale face and hands. His lips were a dark purple, his eyes closed, lashes long and dark against his cheek.

An aura of terrible pain hung in the room, along with the cloying, crushing sense of death.

Vader stared down into that still face and wondered, _What have I done?_

 

* * *

 

Qui-Gon held his precious, broken knight close, cradling him tight while he watched Vader's discovery.

Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan was mostly unaware.

He'd cracked his eyes open enough to see Qui-Gon and smile, murmuring something warm and pleased, and then his soul had stilled.

Qui-Gon didn't know if it would ever heal enough to interact with the others here, or if he would be left holding his broken child for all eternity.

He _would,_ if that's what it took.

But for now he watched as Vader stared down at the still corpse.

He wasn't particularly surprised when Vader eased his way up onto the bed beside it, snuggled up against its side, resting his head on Obi-Wan's chest, over the still heart, and twining one of Obi-Wan's hands in his own left fingers.

Disgusted, yes, but not surprised.

Vader kissed Obi-Wan's cold hand, then drew his saber, placed the emitter to his own heart, smiled a quiet, sad smile at his former best friend, and hit the button.

 

 

 

 


End file.
